What
The Dwarves in exile chat about their situation.

Who
Bavor Rockcutter (#25001).....himself
Jormun Lifebringer (#19783)...himself
Ragnar (#19043)...............himself

Middle-earth time is:
Daytime on Trewsday, Day 14 of May.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 13:28:07 MST on Sun Jan 21 2001.

***** Erebor Time & Weather Service ******************************************
** Real time is: Sun Jan 21 13:28:16 2001, GMT -7 **
Elendor time is: Mid Morning (0900) on Trewsday, 14 May 3022.
In the rainy Spring sky, Tonight the moon will be new.
****************************************** Erebor Time & Weather Service *****

[Bavor] It is early in the morning in northern Rhovanion, between the onely Mountaina nd the Long Lake, and while the dwarven camp is awake activity is at a low, and a few khazad are still enjoying a late breakfast. Porters and others are just starting to load equipment into and out of wagons as the situation demands.

The dwarf Bavor stands by a wain, speaking with a pair of other, older dwarves: one male and one female. He smiles as he speaks, though he seems, overall, nervous, as he shifts form one foot to another.

l me
Bavor(#25001POeA+c)
This individual is a short, stocky figure by human standards at just over four feet in height and about one-fourth that size in width, making him either a short man, a tall hobbit, or a dwarf. Yes, a dwarf: that seems logical, given his dimensions, as well as his beard (rather long, it would seem, reaching just down to waist, forked in the middle and braided from there down). And his eyes... rather dull, of a greyish hue. As for this person's hair, it is either a light brown or a dark blonde, being the same shade as his beard, and straight, falling down to just below his ears. His nose is wide, the bottom of which being partially obscured by a bushy brown (or blonde...) moustache, beneath which being a full pair of lips, beneath which being a beard-covered chin. His skin is a ruddy brownish-red hue.

As for the attire worn by this dwarven figure, they consist of what would be a greyish-green knee-length tunic with sleeves down to the elbows and a rather simple-looking leather belt (the buckle isn't too bad, though... it's just iron, but it's very well-made, reflecting light nicely) supporting it. A portion of his legs are visible above a pair of large leather boots. Bavor just looked at you.

[Jormun] From a tent nearby steps a younger dwarf out in the first rays of the sun - and the silent morning rain. Not happy about getting wet this early he quickly gets back into the tent, where a lot of noise is heard. Finally he comes out again, now wearing a hooded cloak to protect him against the rain. Clearly in a bad mood he walks to the fireplace nearby without noticing anybody else. "Good morning Jormun, another dwarf greets him as he sits down, and Jormun is offeret a cup of tea, which he accepts and lifts to his mouth, drinking. Clearly getting into a better mood, he now manages to smile, "Ah.. nothing as good as a cup of tea in the morning... how could one survive without it." A few of the other dwarves around the fire laughs of that remark and a piece of bread is handed out to everyone. Then they eat and drink in silence..

l Jormun
Jormun
Build like a rock, a stout looking dwarf between 4 and 5 feet tall stands here, almost carved into the surroundings. His face is calm and handsome, with eyes full of joy and life. He has black hair, and from his chin hangs a raven-black beard, reaching down over his broad muscular chest, almost down to his waist, showing his youth. His body appears strong with the grace of agility, his hands too, rough and worn.

He is wearing a black cloak with a hood pulled back, resting on his back and shoulders. Under the cloak is seen a grey shirt, ending in black briggas. He is wearing a broad belt, with a black satchel tied to it's right side, it is large enough to hold small instruments of some sort. He wears a finely crafted bracelet on his left arm.

[Ragnar] From between a pair of wagons steps Ragnar, his cloak drawn across his shoulders, as if he were trying to hold back the damp morning air. He doesn't appear uncomfortable though, as he slowly makes his way across the camp towards the fire pit, his boots leaving tracks in the dew covered grass behind him. As he passes the few other dwarves up and about this morn, he merely nods in greeting if they speak to him.

As he nears the fire pit, Ragnar glances around at the other dwarves, then accepts a cup of tea and slice of bread from one of the dwarves passing out the morning's meal. "Thank ye." He mumbles as he stuffs a piece of the bread in his mouth, then quickly washes it down with a pull from the tankard.

l Ragnar
At around four and a half feet in height, this sturdy looking dwarf stands before you, his bearing straight and proud. Emerald green eyes look upon the world with a steady calm, but there is the hint of steel there as well, as if only just beneath the surface of his emotions. Long, dark red hair hangs from his head, matched by the thick beard that covers his jaw, and reaching down to just above his waist.

Upon his back rests a dull gray cloak, that has, from it's appearance, seen many winters, and is fastened around the top of his chest by a small metallic clasp. His upperbody is covered by a black tunic that fits snugly across his barrel like chest, and ends just above the elbow, revealing arms corded with muscle. The shirt is tucked neatly into a pair of black briggas, which end just below the knee, where the tops of his polished black boots begin. Finally, a thin, brown, leather belt encircles his waist, and from it hang a few small pouches, used for carrying food, or any other items he might find handy.

Bavor finishes speaking with the two other dwarves with a nod, a smile, and a clap on the back, and walks toward the fire, his large boots flopping a bit, seemingly put on incorrectly, if that is possible. The longbeard approaches Ragnar's place and accepts a slice of bread from the cook as well. "Thank you, kind sir," he nods with a smile.

[Ragnar] After taking a few more bites off of the loaf, Ragnar glances around the camp in full, his eyes falling upon Bavor, and the other dwarf's apparant nervousness. His purses his lips slightly as the other dwarf approaches the fire, his eyes displaying his curiousity at the other's mood. He steps away from the fire, slowly trodding over towards Bavor, and dips his head in greeting, "Good morn'."

[Bavor] "Aye, good morning, good sir," nods Bavor before taking a bite of his food, chewing, and swallowing. "Yes, it is indeed a good morning, despite the sad circumstances; but I am content, for all of my loved ones are safe." He takes another large bite and finishes his meal. "I am Bavor Rockcutter of Barazin, if you do not mind my introducing myself. Might I ask your name, kind sir?"

Jormun is fallen into a quiet conversation with the dwarf next to him, and he doesnt keep his eyes at much else than his hot tea and the rain drops that keep falling into it. ".. Then what did you do?" Jormun asks the dwarf next to him, and the other is fast in reply and he speaks and speaks, like the words would never stop again. Jormun sighs and keep drinking his tea... what a 'wonderful' morning.

[Ragnar] Takes another swallow of his tea before replying, "Well met then cousin, Ragnar, of Barazin." He reaches up and wipes his brow, where the rain has collected, and begun dripping down into his eyes. He grumbles under his breathe, something about the cursed rain, then returns his attention to Bavor, "What circumstances are ye referring to, slept well I did last eve, but not so good as to miss something...?"

[Bavor] "Ah, a pleasure it is to meet another of Barazin; though I doubt we are cousins, for I was raised in the Blue Mountains in the distant west. But no matter, we are reltives in spirit if not by blood." He smiles and nods. "The circumstances are, of course, the loss of the Mountain to dragons, if you had not heard! But my kin are safe, and that is what is most important to me. And I am certain that in time our home shall again be regained."

[Jormun] "I need to go back to my tent.. I am not feeling very well", Jormun smiles to the dwarf next to him, the one who keep talking. Then he stands up and starts walking toward the tent, still with the cup of hot tea in his hands.

Suddently he stops as he sees Bavor nearby, changing his course he walks toward him. "Bavor, my friend, did you find your family?", he asks in a loud voice, a smile is now on his lips. The water is dripping down on his face from the hood of the cloak... beginning to make his black beard wet.

Ragnar finishes the last piece of his bread, before it gets completely soaked with water from the sky, and after he swallows it down his lips twist in a slight smirk at Bavor's comment about the dragons. As he continues to listen, he idly runs his free hand over his ample beard, sending droplets of water cascading to the ground at his feet. He does nod grimly though at the Bavor's last comment, and responds, "Aye, our kin are now safe for the time, and we will reclaim our home, though ne'er too soon for me, this blasted rain makes me dream of our tunnels."

[Bavor] "Ah, good Jormun!" nods Bavor as the other approaches. "Aye, my kin are all safe, and all is well for me."

He nods to Ragnar. "And this rain is not to my liking, either, for it soaks me and makes my beard heavy. But now, meet good Jormun of Bundazanul, a great dwarf if ever there was one!"

Ragnar's eyes shifts over towards Jormun, and he studies the other dwarf a moment before bowing his head a bit in greeting, causing him to have to wipe his brow again as he straightens, to remove the water from his eyes. He shakes his hand, to remove the excess water from his skin, speaking to Jormun, "Well met Jormun."

[Jormun] "I am so glad to hear, friend!", Jormun replies Bavor, then he smiles and turn toward Ragnar. With a smile on his face he bows politely, "Pleased to meet you, My name is Jormun Hraefanskegg, son of Lidskjalf", he says. Then he looks at Ragnar, "I dont belive we have talked so much before, I have seen you now and then in the mountain, may I ask you what your name is, friend?" Jormun lifts his cup and take another long drink of his tea, clearly enjoying the heat down his throat..

Ragnar tilts the cup of tea back to his lips, finishing off the last of the cup's contents, then lowers it to his side, returning his gaze back to Jormun. He licks his lips, clearing them of the last drops of tea, then wipes his mouth with the back of his free hand, then responds, "Aye, Ragnar, son of Thord, of Clan Barazin..." He glances up into the sky a moment as the rain seems to slacken, but it is only a slight reprieve for it just as quickly resumes it's previous intensity. He sighs, "To speak of the mountains, t'would much rather see snow, then this cursed water from the heavens."

Bavor sighs and nods. "Aye... I am not overly fond of snow myself, but it is better at any rate than rain. But now," he says, standing, "I must be off to speak with my kin. I have missed them for long, and there is much I have to speak with them of." The dwarf turns and walks around a wain, presumably to speak with his family again.